Date Interrupted
by defiaureve
Summary: Cuddy has a date and House decides to get creative and stop it. Chapter 6, FINALLY added, concluding what was supposed to be a one shot. October 3, 2007
1. Chapter 1

Date Interrupted

Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own House, M.D. or its characters.

A/N: This story contains a few vague spoilers to the entire Cuddy wanting a baby story line, and the episode "Insensitive."

He limped happily up her front walk, humming an almost merry tune to himself. Hobbling up the few steps and over to the flower pot by the front door, he tipped the pot over to grab the spare key. He promptly stopped humming and released a frustrated growl when he saw that she had moved her spare. _Nice_, he thought and made a mental note to mention it to her later. She knew him well enough to know he would try to use the key again and switched spots. It was moments like these, when her Masters degree in House-ology annoyed him to no end. When her knowledge got in the way and slowed his progression to achieving his goal, or interrupted his regularly scheduled viewing, or nap times. A quick perusal of the front porch and a minute or two of Cuddy-Think and House had located his all access pass to Casa Cuddy.

Once he had the door unlocked, he stepped back outside and replaced her key, just in case. Back inside, he toed off his Nikes and left them lying haphazardly on the floor in Cuddy's foyer, ambling into the living room. As an afterthought, House went into the kitchen to check her fridge for refreshments. He found a couple of bottles of beer, gave an approving nod to no one, and snatched both bottles before moving onto the freezer. House grabbed a pint of ice cream he almost missed, as it was hidden in the very back behind a mountain of more sensible frozen foods. Looking from the bottles of beer to the cardboard container House placed the ice cream back in the freezer, promising to come back for it later.

Ambling happily back through the foyer, he stopped and loosened all light bulbs in the foyer, for an added element of surprise. Now all that was left was to wait, and judging purely by her date's appearances, the wait would be a short one.

More than an hour and a half later, House heard two car doors slam shut, followed by footsteps on the walk, and then a key fumbling in the lock. The door opened to Cuddy's laughter and House rolled his eyes. "Care to come inside for coffee?" She offered in a tone a little too sultry for House's liking.

"Sure," came a smooth reply that House was certain was meant to peel the panties off every woman in a ten mile radius.

"Hmm, the bulb must have burnt out," Cuddy mused pleasantly just before she fell to the floor.

The front door slammed shut. "Oh God, Lisa! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just tripped over," she paused feeling around for the offending object. "A sneaker."

Show time, House thought, as he made himself a little more at home. The lights came on in the living room and he smirked. Enough of his clothes where strewn about the house to make it look like he really lived there. A sock was thrown over the back of the chair, his jeans on the couch, his sports coat and button down shirt tossed aside on the floor, and his other sock dangled off the far corner of the coffee table. He was, of course, bare foot and wearing sweat pants and a t-shirt while lounging on the sofa. A medical journal open on his chest.

"Oh my . . .," Cuddy gasped as she looked around the room.

House popped up and reached for his cane, hauling himself off the sofa. "There you are, you little minx," he greeted, walking around the sofa to stand closer to Cuddy, but not so close that the daggers her glare was shooting would hit their mark.

"House, _what_ are you doing here?"

"Surprised to see me? I thought you would be." He turned his attention to her date, as if noticing him for the first time. "And who do we have here?"

Cuddy's date smoothed his tie nervously as his eyes darted from his date to the man standing in the doorway of her livingroom, who so obviously seemed to belong there. "Doug Simmons," he replied, extending a hand, unsure really what the protocol was for a situation like this. He was about to continue with 'and you are' before House grunted and started speaking again.

"Lose your ring again, Lisa?" House made air quotes around the word 'lose'. "Luckily, I found it. In the oddest place though. Your jewelry box," he shrugged, "guess it doesn't make sense to look there." Suddenly House turned his attention to who he hoped would be the next in a line of ex's. "If she weren't so good in bed, I'd have cut her loose years ago. She's a real hell cat though," he said conspiratorially before giving a low, appreciative whistle.

Once again, Doug's eyes darted from Cuddy to House and back again. "Uh, Lisa d . . ."

"Of course she knows me, we've been together since college." For emphasis, House began tapping his finger on his cane, which resulted in a soft tapping, like metal on wood. Doug's eyes shot to House's hands, then grew wide. "No kids yet. Doesn't stop us from trying though."

Doug began to flush and he turned to leave. "I . . . uh . . . I better be going." Not wanting to be rude, he stopped at the door and looked over his shoulder. "Tonight was . . . interesting?"

Cuddy knew it would do no good to call after Doug as he sprinted out the door. Instead, she settled her glare on House. Her look said everything she was too angry to. ("I'm pissed and you're living your final minutes unless you have a damn good explanation.") All that she needed to say was, "why," not a question but a demand. And an odd cross between a growl and a hiss.

House shrugged, "he didn't look like your type."

"And you came to this conclusion . . . just now? That doesn't explain why you're _here_."

Waving a hand in front of his face, House grunted to the negative. "Nah, when you two were at the restaurant."

Her jaw dropped, "how did you . . . you _followed _me?!?"

"Not exactly, no. I got there after you did though. It's amazing what people will do for fifty bucks. Especially busboys trying to work their way through college." He walked back around the couch and grabbed his cell phone, waving it in front of her before flipping it open and snapping a picture. "I am so glad I let the friendly neighborhood cell phone sales rep talk me into purchasing this baby. It's a little more than I wanted to spend but oh so worth the money." He aimed lower, snapped another picture and stared appreciatively, "nice," he drawled and muttered something about finding his new wallpaper.

Cuddy crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him, "you paid someone to take a picture of me on a date?"

House shrugged, "I was warned against showing up at restaurants during your dates. Remember?"

"Out," she snapped, not quite as harshly as she meant to.

"Doug? Seriously? I just don't see you with a Doug, Cuddy."

Her eyes narrowed at him and her hands dropped to her hips. "And just who _do_ you see me with, House?"

"Not a Doug. I can't quite hear you screaming out "Doug" in the throws of passion. And thank God that I was here, the way Romeo answered your offer for coffee, I'm surprised your panties didn't melt off on the porch. I could practically see him leering down your dress at the funbags, which is just totally unnecessary."

"I'll remember that next time I catch you _leering _down my top. You have finally sunk to a new low, House."

"At least I got here before your bra went MIA this time." House shot back cooly.

Cuddy's hands fell from her hips and realization dawned. "You're jealous," she accused. "You want to pretend this is for my best interest or that you're just trying to make my life hell. Doug seems to be a decent guy, not that its any of your business. And if you really wanted to make me miserable, you would let me continue on with these dates and if they turn out badly, so be it."

House limped forward, "I don't do jealous."

"Or honesty," she muttered under her breath, causing House to ask, rather harshly, for clarification. "_Everybody_ lies," she shot back.

"You can do better, Cuddy. Where did you meet this one? bent over and picked up one of House's sneakers, took a few steps and picked up the other before marching up to him and shoving them into his chest. "Get. Out!"

He had pushed one too many buttons and unless he wanted to be the next thing she picked up and tossed somewhere, he would need to do some serious back pedaling. "Okay, so Casanova might have been your Mr. Right, but I saw you in that restaurant, or in the pictures from the restaurant, and you were _not _that interested in him. Then, all of a sudden, you come home and invite him in for coffee?"

Cuddy narrowed her gaze and folded her arms across her chest. She felt like she was going to explode if he said one more word. "Its my life, House. You don't get to make those decisions for me."

"But I . . .," he stopped short of telling her that he cared about the outcome. That he cared because those guys weren't him. "That guy is not clean . . . genetically speaking. He's a diabetic, a history of heart disease, and a sufferer of male pattern baldness. Do you really want to do that to your kid?" He walked back over and plopped down in her chair to put on his shoes

Her eyes followed him through her living room and she stared at him for a long moment. Letting him wonder just how she had taken his 'friendly advice'. "Not every decision I make is fueled by my desire to become a mother, House."

"Just make sure whoever you bring home is worthy of the hip-to-hip hula. And for the record," House began as he made his way to her front door, "maybe the guy you're looking for has been under your skin all along. Food for thought. G'night." He slammed the door shut behind him and limped his way across the porch and toward the curb.

Inside, Lisa Cuddy stood in her foyer, eyes darting between the closed front door and the clothes House had left strewn all over her living room. His use of the phrase "under your skin" made her wonder if he had finally driven her to the brink of hallucination. She walked to the front door and peered out the peep hole to see House walking to her driveway. When she didn't hear his motorcycle start up, she grabbed his sports coat and hurried toward her driveway. "Don't you just hate when you make a dramatic exit only to have it ruined when you get caught trying to hot-wire your boss's car?"

House grunted in response, before turning around to snark something a little more expected. "I was going to come back in and get my cell phone out of my jacket but I would have just had to top that last exit. I figured grand theft auto would be easier." He tried hard, in his own way, and she hated that she couldn't stay angry with him for more than a short period of time. Okay, maybe tried hard was the wrong phrasing, but he could be worse, she imagined, than he actually was. At least that excuse was more pleasant than allowing her guilt to be blamed. "But since you saved me the trip and the humiliation, I'll take my phone now."

He stuck out his hand and Cuddy reached into the pockets, coming up empty. "You must have left your phone inside along with your laundry."

He stamped his cane on the ground, "thought you wanted me out."

"What's a few more minutes? You can call a cab and I'll make some tea." She wanted to ask him about his 'under your skin' comment and hoped if he lingered a few more minutes he would voluntarily explain himself. Cuddy realized her chances of winning the lottery on the same day that Hell froze over would be greater, but it never hurt to hope.

"You offered Dan coffee," he pouted, taking one step closer.

Cuddy rolled her eyes and briefly wondered how House's mind worked, to think he was in the position to be picky when he was walking the pathway to the dog house. "Fine, I'll make coffee."

"I take my coffee with breakfast," House offered as they walked toward the front door.

"Don't push it, House," Cuddy shot back over her shoulder.

They stopped on the porch and House blocked her entry into her home with his cane. "You could just give me a ride home," he suggested.

She wanted to make a few suggestions of her own, especially one about his staying, but that was out of the question. "You broke into my house and ruined my date," she argued half heartedly.

"All the more reason you should just drive me. It'll get me out of your hair quicker. And you might still have a chance with Damien."

"His name was Doug, and that ship has sailed, House. If I ever get a date again, it will be a small miracle. And why didn't you ride your motorcycle?" Cuddy reached out and wrapped her slender fingers around his cane, and pushed it out of her way, walking into the foyer and grabbing her car keys. She didn't care why he didn't drive himself, she just wanted the conversation away from Doug and her lack of a love life.

House limped inside and shut the door. "A cab was less hassle. If I had driven myself I would have had to chop down trees and shrubbery and cover my bike."

Cuddy rolled her eyes at his ever present flare for the dramatic. "Let's go, its been a long night and I have an early meeting tomorrow."

"We could trade. My jacket for your car." This comment she didn't even regard with an eye roll as she motioned him out the door.

They were just over half way to his apartment building when they were caught by the longest red light in history. "I knew you should have invited me to stay for breakfast," House mused. "We'll starve to death waiting for the green here."

Cuddy shot him a look out of the corner of her eye then focused her gaze on his left hand. "Where did you get that?"

House held up his hand and pretended to study it thoughtfully, "this old thing? Just something I found lying around at Wilson's."

"You _stole _Wilson's wedding band?" Though she wasn't exactly sure why she was shocked.

"Its not like he's using it for anything," House defended. "Besides, I _borrowed_ it. I'll get it back to its rightful owner."

The light turned green and Cuddy pressed the accelerator. She was well aware she only had a few more minutes to figure out House's motive behind his 'under the skin' statement. When they were two blocks from his apartment, Cuddy decided it was a now or never moment. "You know, House, if you keep interrupting my dates, one might get the impression you actually _care_ about me. Maybe even trying to keep me for yourself."

"I told you," he began gruffly, "I don't do jealous. I'm not big on caring either. I just don't want you taking up my free time with all the whining about how Romeo turned out to be Satan in sheep's clothing."

She muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'why do I even bother'. Instead, she stopped her car and turned to House and smiled. "Then why bother? If you aren't jealous and you don't care."

House paused and gave this some consideration. "Because I don't want to see a mini-you with any of the genetic flaws that you keep attracting."

Cuddy wanted to tell him that she had put the entire baby creation process on the back burner, but that would have required more explanation than she cared to get into. It would lead to her wanting to tell him she was waiting until his life brought him to the same point and they could make the journey into parenthood together. That would lead to a fight and give him enough ammo for a full year and then some when it came to mocking her and making day to day life a living hell. "That's almost nice of you. Goodnight, House."

He started to shut the door and stopped, leaning down to reveal a smirk on his lips. "Since I'm such a nice guy, I'm willing to make up for the whole ruining your date thing." He waited until she gave a look that wanted him to go on. "I'll let you come up to my place and seduce me. But only because I ruined your date and I know that is one of the little fantasies that keep you going through the day."

Cuddy rolled her eyes and reached for the gearshift. "Goodnight, House." He shut the door after a "suit-yourself-shrug" and she put the car in gear. She was on her way home no less frustrated and no closer to an answer to his "right under your skin" comment from earlier. She supposed he would offer her an explanation at some point, if it were important enough or if he had meant anything by it to begin with.


	2. The Day After

"You _stole_ my wedding ring?!?" Wilson asked in genuine surprise.

"You're _shocked_?!?" House asked, mimicking Wilson's surprised tone. "I'm sorry, we must have just met. Greg House, head of diagnostics, just down the hall there," he gestured with his cane. "Welcome to Princeton Plainsboro. Did Dr. Cuddy or one of her flying monkeys give you your welcome package and a tour of the facility?"

Wilson took the gold band that House was holding between his left thumb and forefinger. "What purpose would _you _have for _my _old wedding band?"

"What purpose do _you_ have for your old wedding band? That's not exactly something people recycle. Or collect." House retorted coolly.

Opening his center desk drawer, Wilson dropped the ring on top of his prescription pad and pushed the drawer closed again. "The point its mine to do with as I see fit."

House walked over to his favorite spot in Wilson's office and looked out onto the balcony. "Cuddy more or less implied the same thing, without so many words."

This confused Wilson more than ever and he didn't bother trying to hide that behind fake understanding. Finally after a few heartbeats of silence, Wilson narrowed his eyes. "You didn't _propose_ to Cuddy, did you?"

"No! Interrupted her date with _Doug_. And before you say it, I don't do jealous." Wilson opened his mouth and House cut him off. "Or caring."

"Right, okay. If you don't do jealous, you do one hell of an impression." Wilson fell into his desk chair and leaned forward, elbows resting on the edge of the desk. "You're going to have to tell her at some point."

House turned around and limped over to the desk. "Tell who what?"

The diagnostician was trying the patience of the oncologist, and the latter made no secret of it. "Cuddy, that you like her."

"Why would I do that?"

"Well, lets see . . . because you obviously do, for starters. You stole my wedding band to aid in your busting up her date."

House gave his best "duh" expression. "Because a bad date directly effects _me_. She goes out with someone and has a lousy time, I don't get to leave the clinic for a week. Not to mention the fact that she'll start looking for stuff to pin on me and its not like I can't find trouble on my own."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "Right. Not everyone is as . . . vengeful as you are, House. Or as unhappy. Cuddy obviously feels the need for someone in her life at this point and she's doing something about it. If you don't care for her, and therefore aren't jealous, then give her the chance to be happy with whomever she finds that can help her achieve that goal."

"Happy schmappy. These losers she keeps digging up are not going to make her happy for longer than a dinner or two."

The oncologist held up his hands in a surrender fashion. "Fine, you're harassing her to protect your own happiness."

House gave a look of satisfaction, "and the entertainment value."

"So are you going to brag about how you ruined this date or is that a secret."

House's pager went off and he walked to the door leading to the balcony. "Time's up. Let's continue this next session." With that, House was out the door and limped across the balcony, hopping the partition and entering his own office through the "back door". "You rang?" He asked of the trio standing in his office.

"Cuddy was looking for you," Cameron offered.

Now it was House who rolled his eyes. "You paged me for that? I thought we had a case, or one of you three were dying."

Foreman sat down in one of House's visitors chairs, "sorry to disappoint you," he said sarcastically. "But if it makes you feel better, I think Cuddy is looking to kill you."

"Afternoon already? That woman is insatiable," House retorted as he popped a Vicodin and hobbled out of his office. The three young doctors stood in his wake, staring at each other and shaking their heads.

Chase was the first one to speak. "One day House is going to disappear, and Cuddy will need witnesses at her murder trial."

"Only if someone doesn't beat her to it," Cameron quipped softly.

Foreman shook his head, "she would be acquitted. Anyone that knows House would testify on her behalf and the judge would acquit her before the first recess."

When House walked into Cuddy's office he was whistling Frank Sinatra's 'I've Got You Under My Skin', which didn't go unnoticed by the dean. She quirked a brow in his direction and he stopped whistling, satisfied that it didn't go unnoticed. "I was summonsed."

"I need your updated patient files by the end of the day, and you have a patient in exam three," Cuddy said, smirking as she passed him a patient file.

House flipped open the file, skimmed the page, and closed it again. "It's a cold. That's the problem with this stupid clinic, people abuse it," he grumped, passing the file back to Cuddy.

She pushed the file back toward him, "this is a _free_ clinic and these people _are_ sick. Paper cut, cold, pneumonia, whatever the complaint, if they feel they need medical attention, we as doctors have a responsibility to give it to them. Now, go finish your hour of clinic and your three hours of paperwork."

"Somebody is testy today. Rough night? Up all night thinking about the key holder to your libido?"

Cuddy shot him a warning glare, "clinic. Now."

Not wanting to push her too far, House turned, file in hand, and limped out of the room whistling the same tune he entered with. When he opened the door separating her office from the clinic, she heard him say "Dr. House to exam three."

After finishing up an e-mail and taking a series of phone calls, Cuddy headed out of her office. She stopped in the outer office and said something to her assistant before making a bee line for the elevator. She was starring in the latest House drama and needed insight. She knew of one person who knew House as well as she did, and was determined to find answers.


	3. Unanswers

A/N: Sorry it has taken so long to update. This story was actually supposed to be a oneshot and along with RL getting in the way, my muse took a vacation. So, here is chapter 3, and I hope it's a little better than chapter 2 and half as good as chapter 1.

Lisa Cuddy knocked lightly on James Wilson's office door and waited for permission to enter. When she pushed open the door, she greeted him with an exasperated sigh and cut straight to the point. "Why does House insist on sabotaging my personal life?"

"Because he's House?" The look he received in response was all Wilson needed to throw up his hands in surrender. "I honestly don't know for sure. Why does he sabotage my relationships or potential relationships? Romantic and otherwise."

"You know something."

Wilson opened his mouth and clamped it shut again, and finally spoke. "I _know_ nothing. I have a few theories, but . . . what was House doing with my wedding ring anyway?"

Cuddy gave Wilson a brief description of the previous evenings events and gave thought to sinking down onto his couch when she had finished recounting every embarrassing scene. She concluded her recap with one likely unanswerable question. "Why can't he just act like a _normal_ human being?"

The other doctor shrugged and reverted to an earlier statement. "Because he's House?" The look Cuddy shot him was all the prompting Wilson needed to offer something better. "Because 'normal' is a relative term and that is 'normal' House behavior? Look, if you want my _opinion_, and keep in mind I _know_ nothing, I think House likes you."

"House likes to make my life miserable. Both personal and professional, and he has since college." Cuddy released a ragged sigh and crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly feeling a little vulnerable.

"And this makes you crazy because you have feelings for House?" Wilson tried, trudging into dangerous territory, purposely not giving his words a second thought.

Suddenly, she felt like she did when she was four and her mother caught her standing on a chair with her hand in the cookie jar half an hour before dinner. Caught and trapped with the only exit blocked by someone waiting for her to explain herself. "I . . . feel a certain level of responsibility toward House." She was lying. She, of course, knew it. He knew it. And she knew he knew it. And they both knew it was a matter of time before she came clean. After all, she was a great boss, a wonderful friend, but a terrible liar.

Wilson nodded once, the way he did when he wanted House to know he was on to his obvious lie. "Right."

Now Cuddy was thinking coming here, to Wilson's office, to find answers that no one but House would have was a huge mistake. "House is not the monogamous type. He doesn't want the same things from life that I do."

"If you're talking about a baby and possible relationship, I think he might be changing his mind. Or at least thinking he would like the option to share your wants if that's what he decides."

Cuddy started fussing with the necklace she was wearing. "I don't want someone that thinks they want what I want, because that's what I want. I want someone who knows he wants what I want, because that's what he wants for his life. And who wants to be with me because they care for me, not because someone else wants me."

Wilson moved from leaning against the edge of his desk to sitting next to Cuddy on the couch. He cautiously placed a friendly hand on her knee. "Maybe he's always wanted what you want, but it took your wanting it for him to realize it. And as far as the other. If House didn't care for you for _you, _it wouldn't matter who you went out with. He would find some other way to torment you besides breaking up your dates. Like, I don't know, setting you up with complete losers?"

"Yeah," she snorted. "Or he would help me find Mr. Right and becoming his best friend."

"Who knows what he would do? He _is _House, master of torture. You could always pretend to be appreciative of his efforts. Keep going out on dates and thank him when he busts them up," Wilson offered half jokingly, hoping to lighten the mood.

Cuddy got up and walked toward the door, getting ready to leave. She couldn't help but laugh at House's likely reaction to being thanked for ruining a date. "He definitely wouldn't expect that. And it is a t thought. Thank you for your input." She placed her hand on the door handle, then turned back. "Can I buy a very insightful friend lunch, as a thanks for listening to even more of my House related woes?"

"Sure, I'll meet you in your office about one-thirty?"

She nodded and left Wilson's office, still smiling at the thought of genuinely thanking House for the next interrupted date. She sobered a little when she saw House limping down the hallway.

"Wilson finally in trouble for a change?"

"Board meeting this afternoon," she answered while glancing at her watch.

"Oh, doctory stuff."

"Which remind me," Cuddy began, earning a wince from House. "You're supposed to be in the clinic."

House held up his pager," one of the kids paged me. I'll get back there as soon as I find out who called which one a bad name."

Cuddy nodded and placed a hand on House's upper back. "Okay, I'll go with you, then we'll go back to the clinic together."

He hated when she caught him lying and refused to play along. It was rare and usually ended up catching him off guard. "Really, Cuddy, how are the kids ever going to respect me and my authority if Mommy is always right there to step in and over rule Daddy? I'll handle this and have the little one take notes for you, then meet you in your office for a full report and maybe a little very private Mommy/Daddy playtime."

"They paged _you_ didn't they? And since when did you become so 'paternal'?"

House stopped short of his offices and turned to face Cuddy. "Don't you have an assistant to fire? Or an intern you need to make cry?"

"Lets just drop the act, House. You're trying to cut out of clinic duty and I caught you. NicU is short staffed today and Chase is helping out until a couple of nurses get here. Foreman is at lunch with his girlfriend, and Cameron is in the lab chatting up one of the new techs."

"Would you believe that I'm such a brilliant doctor that my very presence in the clinic healed everyone and they skipped to their cars?"

Cuddy gave her best "nice try" look and shook her head. "Think of clinic as . . . a rest for your brilliant mind. We can't have our resident mad scientist burning out, and shorter work days and weeks are out of the question. Of course a good alternative to clinic duty is catching up on your paperwork."

"You caught me. I was planning to surprise you. I skipped out of nose wiping detail to come up here and finish all my paperwork for one month. Now you've gone and ruined it."

She reached out and gently squeezed one of his hands. "I am sufficiently surprised, believe me. Now, stun me speechless and actually _do _it."

He looked up, pretending to give serious thought to her words. "Speechless? I'll see what I can do." House smirked, stole a quick, appreciative glance down her shirt, and turned to walk into his office.

When he walked through the glass door, she stood in the hallway a little disappointed. Over the years she had grown accustomed to the comments that teetered on the edge, if not defined the very term of, sexual harassment. Now, he was throwing curve balls right and left these days and she wasn't quite sure how to react. The latest being a barely obvious peek down her top and her actual disappointment that he neglected to make even a mildly suggestive comment. As she clicked her way down the hall toward the elevator, Cuddy wondered if she shouldn't give serious thought to seeing a therapist.

When House was sure Cuddy wasn't lurking outside his office, he slipped out the back door and "hopped" the wall separating his balcony from Wilson's. He jerked open the glass door. "What was Cuddy doing up here?"

"What makes you think I would know?" Wilson asked, trying not to make eye contact with his friend.

"Hmm, because you are answering questions with questions? You aren't making eye contact? You reek of suspicion? This office smells like her perfume?"

Wilson closed the file he had been scanning and pushed it to the side, made a note on a sticky pad and placed his ink pen back in its holder. "She wanted company for lunch," he answered nonchalantly, choosing to tell the truth and play it off as no big deal.

House glared at the door leading to the hallway and allowed an unreadable smirk to cross his lips. "Would that be before or after the surprise board meeting this afternoon?"

"What surprise board meeting? This is our regular board meeting, House." Thinking quickly, Wilson attempted to snuff out any amount of suspicion that might be parading through House's head. "They changed a couple of items on the agenda and Cuddy came up to fill me in. I have a patient due here any second and we decided to finish talking about it over lunch, then its off to the meeting. Why do you care?"

House hobbled toward the door to the hallway, "I'm heavily invested in what goes on in this hospital."

Wilson pulled on his lab coat, "only if it involves Cuddy. Or if you can find a way to make everyone around you miserable. Look, House, whatever it is that you feel for Cuddy, I suggest you do something about it." House opened his mouth to comment and Wilson stopped him. "I don't have time for this. I have patients to see and I'm sure you have important loafing to do. I will say that if you really care for her, try to show it like an adult before you lose her."


	4. Green

House left Wilson's office and stalked down the hall for a little music therapy. He hated it when Wilson was right and Wilson's dismissing him, for something as unimportant as doing his job, only compounded his frustration. And he wasn't exactly sure how he felt about Cuddy's oh so vague skimming of the truth and complete omission of her lunch plans with Wilson. After all, lunch with a friend and colleague wasn't a big deal unless . . . House grabbed the phone receiver from the cradle and punched in Cuddy's extension number. Three rings later she still hadn't picked up her phone. House waited two more rings and slammed the phone down, swearing at her assistant under his breath.

A few minutes later he was walking into her empty office. He took a seat in a chair just inside the door, where he wouldn't be seen unless she turned around. In the same chair he had been hiding in when he caught her with the Red Clover, that would later lead to suspicions about her heath and revelations about the direction she wanted her personal life to take. Using his cane to pull the coffee table closer, House propped his feet up and settled in for an indeterminable wait.

When Cuddy finally breezed into her office, House pulled himself out of the chair and greeted her. "I'm hungry, wanna buy me lunch?"

She turned, startled, "how did you get in here?"

"I walked in," he quipped, gesturing to the door with his cane, "through the door. Like you just did, but I don't have quite the same delightful sway in my step. Your turn. Wanna buy me lunch?"

"I can't. I have lunch plans and an afternoon full of meetings."

House took a few steps toward her. "I didn't see anything in your calender."

House's "interrogation role" had forced her to slip into defensive mode. "They're new plans," she shot back. She was glad to have House back but resented his overpowering presence at the moment.

"Okay, Miss Spontaneity. Just thought I'd offer."

"Well, thanks for the generous offer to let _me_ buy _you _lunch, but I already have plans. And, unlike some, I have a job to do." Cuddy gathered a few files and placed them in her briefcase. She then moved around behind the desk, checked a few things on her computer and switched off the monitor, before moving back around to grab her bag and usher House out the door.

House stood his ground, watching her every move, assessing the situation and the best way to get answers about her lunch plans. When she moved around to drag him out the door, he started his own brand of interrogation. "I thought you only toured and teased donors, I wasn't aware that you wined and dined, too."

Hooking an arm through his, she tugged him toward the first set of doors. "I usually don't. And I don't tease."

"The lips say no, but the neckline says 'yes, yes, yes!'. So, who is the donor who deserves this special treatment?"

Cuddy stopped to lock her office door, left some instructions for her assistant, and continued to accompany House to the lobby. "I never said there was a donor. You're in the clinic, why don't you take a break. See a patient or two," Cuddy got the attention of the nurse at the clinic desk, "Dr. House signing back in at one-twenty-three."

The nurse nodded, pulled the next file in the stack, and directed House to an exam room down the hall. Cuddy didn't have to be facing House to see the glare he was sending her direction. As she headed toward the hospital cafeteria, Lisa Cuddy smiled proudly to herself. _That should elicit a more House-like reaction,_ she thought turning a corner and waving to Wilson.

House finished with the most whiney patient in the history of patients. She had started with complaints from as far back as she could remember, insisting that every medical problem she had ever had, led to this very moment and an incurable disease that would wipe her off the face of the planet in a matter of days, if not minutes. It didn't help that the patient was a complete hypochondriac, and was suffering from nothing more than a paper cut she had received while flipping through a magazine in the waiting room. He tossed the file on the nurses' station, barked something about leaving the clinic, and stormed as best he could into the main lobby of the hospital.

There was a reason that Cuddy had avoided telling him who she was lunching with, hadn't exactly denied that she was dining with a donor. There was a reason and Greg House intended to find out. He glanced at his watch and smirked. It looked like lunch time, and what better place to have lunch than the cafeteria. The food was passable, but the entertainment was unbeatable today.

He stepped into the doorway and searched the eatery for Cuddy and Wilson. What he saw he wasn't quite prepared for. They sat at a table against the far wall of the cafeteria, leaning toward each other, talking and . . . _she did _not_ just laugh at something Wilson said, _House thought as he stomped into the room and pushed his way through line. He wasn't exactly hungry after seeing the woman he liked to torment and his best friend laughing it up in such a very public place, but didn't want to look suspicious, sitting at an empty table. After all, the first rule of a successful "investigation" was to remain inconspicuous.

_Now he's making her fidget_. House was suddenly consumed with the need to walk over and punch his best pal in the face. _Cuddy doesn't giggle or fidget unless . . . she can't be flirting with Wilson!_ From where he was standing, it looked very much like a date. Eating together, leaning across the table to better hear one another, Cuddy laughing at whatever nonsense Wilson was yammering on about. House wasn't entirely sure why he even cared. She was a grown woman and free to do whatever, or whoever she wanted. The need to know exactly what was being said at their table caught him completely off guard, and he began scanning the room for an empty table within earshot, or at least at an angle that would allow him to read their lips.

"Unlike smugness, jealousy isn't something House can easily pull off," Wilson observed, causing his lunch companion to reward him with the beginnings of a laugh. It was more than a snort but less than an actual giggle, then she shook her head in agreement.

"I'm surprised he didn't sneak out of the clinic and follow me in here to see who I was having lunch with."

Wilson took a bite of his food, chewed quickly, and washed it down with a large drink of water. "I . . . might have let that bit of information slip. Not long after you left my office this morning, he came in and questioned me about what you wanted."

Cuddy began to fidget with her food. "And when I didn't tell him . . ."

"He probably thinks we're having some sort of secret fling or something. You know House, he'll forget that you and I are friends and go straight to our hiding something from him. On the upside though, you can think of his mental anguish as revenge for breaking up your date with what's-his-name."

She laughed and shook her head, "you and I both know that House's mental anguish is contagious. His pain, no matter what kind, is something he doesn't mind sharing. At least this might get a House-like reaction out of him. He's been almost . . . nice . . . lately. And while I appreciate the change, I'm too busy waiting for the other shoe to drop to enjoy it."

This time it was Wilson who laughed. Cuddy suggested a subject change and indicated a file resting on the table between them. They both leaned in and began skimming over the file her assistant had presented her with minutes before her lunch. The rest of the meal was spent scanning finance reports for the board meeting that promised to completely lack in entertainment.

House spent his entire lunch not eating. His Reuben was left untouched, his fries had grown cold, and his soda was watered down and hot. He was seething with anger by the time Wilson stood from the table, took Cuddy's tray to the garbage and returned to escort her out of the cafeteria. House would have been almost fine with all of that if Wilson's hand hadn't brushed the small of Cuddy's back.

If he had been fuming before, he was boiling over now, and couldn't get out of his chair and into the hallway fast enough. On his way out, House's cane made contact with the feet of at least two people, who complained rather loudly. House barked at them to keep quiet as he hobbled past, glare set straight ahead, mind racing toward thoughts of revenge. "If you really care for her, try to show it like an adult before you lose her," House repeated under his breath, while wishing he had a pea shooter, or better yet a dart gun, to stop Wilson in his tracks. "Some friend he is."

He rounded a corner to find that Cuddy and Wilson were nowhere in sight. He made a mental note to look into getting a scooter for future following and stalked toward the boardroom.

Just as the meeting was getting under way, Wilson's pager went off. He quickly pulled the offending device from his pocket, read the message, and excused himself. "There is an issue with a patient," he said slowly, "I'm sorry. I'll clear it up as quickly as possible."

As the door shut behind him, he heard someone say something about continuing without him. When he was halfway down the hall, he found thoughts of thanks running through his head for missing even a little of the meeting. But when he turned a corner and ran into a horizontal pole jutting from the wall, any thankfulness James Wilson had quickly disappeared. "House . . ."


	5. Understanding

"Some friend you are, Jimmy." The diagnostician grouched, still blocking the oncologist's path with his cane.

Wilson placed both hands on the cane pressing into his stomach. "What are you talking about? Is this because I didn't have time to indulge you in your obsession with all things Cuddy?"

House placed the rubber bottom of the cane on Wilson's foot, applying just the right amount of pressure. When Wilson let loose with an "ouch", House rolled his eyes. "Trust me, you had that coming. I _should_ punch you in the face for lying to me."

The younger doctor released an exasperated sigh. "I don't have time for all these cryptic clues. I have a board meeting to get back to. Unless, of course, I'm wrong in assuming it was you who paged me with the patient emergency."

"Why didn't you tell me your lunch with Cuddy was a date?" Two nurses who were walking down the hall stopped and stared at the two men. House didn't let the chance to drag Wilson through the mud pass him by. "Just because your practice is suffering and you killed two patients last week during to very routine procedures doesn't mean sleeping with the boss lady will save your job." The nurses gasped and scurried to the elevator and House smiled smugly at Wilson's exasperation.

"I'm _not_ dating Cuddy. Lunch was just lunch."

House studied Wilson a moment, skepticism etched deeply in his features. "Then why wouldn't she tell me she was having lunch with you? And why the hell were you two laughing it up in the cafeteria, heads together. For God's sake, she even _giggled_!"

Wilson shook his head, "I don't know why she does what she does any more than you do. All I know for a fact is that lunch was _not_ a date. Why didn't you page Cuddy out of the meeting?"

"Are you kidding me! She'll castrate me, and in case you haven't noticed, we're in a hospital so its not like she'll have to track down the tools to do it with. And I'm a cripple so she will most definitely catch me." Wilson tried in vain to hide his smirk at House's fear of emasculation. "Besides, I'm not going to jeopardize being nice to her for a whole day to call her from a precious board meeting and grill her like a cheeseburger."

Wilson pointed an accusatory finger at his friend, "you _do _care about her!"

"No," House grouched, "I care about _me_ and what happens to the boys."

"Suit yourself. I've got to get back. Why don't you wait until the meeting is over and ask her then? And try to do it in such a way that she won't want to kill you. You know . . . be almost charming about it." Wilson turned to leave, only to have the hook of House's cane wrap around his upper arm. He looked back over his shoulder. "What now?"

House glared at him, then at his hand, and back at the man himself. "Why did _that_," he gestured to Wilson's hand, "touch Cuddy's back as you were leaving the cafeteria?"

"Green isn't your color, House," Wilson said simply and hurried back to the boardroom.

House stole a chair and hid just out of sight, waiting for the board meeting to end. He had thought more than once about going in there, spouting several rude comments and insulting at least one member of the board, and thought better of it every time. After an hour, his leg began to ache and he had dry swallowed a Vicodin. Almost half an hour after that, his stomach began to grumble and he realized that _General Hospital _was about to come on. There was only one thing to do.

He abandoned his self appointed post and headed for his office. Cameron could be talked into getting him lunch and his TV was already tuned to his must see soap. And he could just about bet that Cuddy would be paying him a visit after she and Wilson had a post meeting chat. If not, she was easy enough to find. He would just wait until the clinic was closed and stroll into her office, casually bring up seeing her having lunch with Wilson, or maybe invite her to dinner, his treat, and ask her then.

_Why the hell do I even care? Its not like I'm in love with Cuddy. That's just insane. She's a big girl, she can see who she wants, even if it is Wilson, or they are totally wrong for her. Forget it, there's no reasoning on an empty stomach. _He pushed the door to his office open and found Cameron sitting at his desk answering his e-mail. "You know what goes really great with e-mail? Chinese food. Why don't you call in an order for me and run pick it up?"

Cameron remained in his chair, staring at him blankly. "That last part probably sounded like a question, but I assure you, it wasn't. Now, get up and let Daddy have his chair. Go ahead and order something for yourself, you're paying for it anyway."

She finally got out of his chair and House switched on his TV, settling in to watch _General Hospital_ while he waited for his lunch. "Are you sure I can't pick up your dry cleaning while I'm out? Maybe have your motorcycle detailed?"

House said nothing, but pointed to the TV. Cameron rolled her eyes and stormed out of the office. House seemed almost proud as he propped his legs up on his desk. Cameron really didn't make a worthy opponent when it came to a verbal sparring. She was too short tempered for it to be fun, but on days like this when he was itching to piss someone off and was short on time, she was the perfect candidate.

At five o'clock, there had been no sign of Cuddy. Wilson had stopped by his office briefly, only to leave again, probably to do his rounds like a good little doctor. By two minutes past the hour, House had everything loaded into his backpack and he was making tracks for the elevator. A quick stop by the good Dean's office and he was on his way home, or dinner, depending on how she answered.

When he walked up to the glass doors of her office, her head was down, fingers massaging her temples. "Salma! Angelina! Cuddy!" He greeted as he pushed the doors open.

She looked up, puzzled. "I can suspend you for drinking on the job," she quipped.

"Its rude to enter a room and not greet all the ladies present." He gestured to her low cut top and tossed his backpack down by her coat rack. "I didn't want the twins to get jealous."

Cuddy shook her head. "What do you want, House?"

"Dinner. Wanna join me? I'm buying."

Her head shot up and she studied him carefully. "Are you asking me out, House?"

He walked up to the guest chairs and sat down in the one he usually occupied during his visits to her office. "You're delirious with hunger, Cuddy. You better accept and grab your purse quick."

"You're such a charmer. How could I ever decline an offer like that? Oh, I know. I'm busy, House. Go home."

"Still full from your lunch date with Wilson?" He blurted out.

Cuddy looked up, blue met blue, and she held his gaze for a moment before answering. "It wasn't a date. Wilson is a friend and we had lunch."

House let loose a fake chuckle. "If it wasn't a date why did you lie about it?"

"I didn't lie," she almost hissed. "But maybe I didn't tell you because my every move isn't any of your business. It was lunch between friends, certainly nothing for you to fake emergencies to get people out of meetings for."

House threw his head back, resting it on the back of the chair for a few seconds then brought it back up to meet her eyes again. "Please, I saw the two of you at lunch. Heads together, laughing and . . . _giggling_. Then the way he . . . never mind."

Now he had her full attention. He was jealous and jealous House could not only be fun but very informative. "The way he what, House?"

"I said never mind."

"No, I'm curious. What do you think he did that has you so torn up? You've never been the type to hold back on what you thought before. What's stopping you now?"

House started tapping his cane on the floor. Rubber hitting carpet in a soft thump. "Nothing."

Cuddy leaned back in her chair, "first you break into my house and run off a potentially good guy."

"A loser," House interjected.

"You don't know that. Then you break into my office and ask me out to lunch, I tell you I have plans so you follow me, then you call the person I went to lunch with – _your _best friend – out of a meeting to interrogate him. Don't you think you owe it to me to give me a few answers? After all, I haven't had you arrested for breaking and entering yet, but it is a possibility."

He stopped thumping his cane on the floor and rested his forehead on the handle of it. He finally looked up at her, not directly, but at least he was looking at her. "Lunch with a friend doesn't usually involve his hands on your back, does it?"

Now it was all clicking into place. And she had to choose her words carefully. Cuddy didn't want to mock him, not when he was actually showing human emotions. "No, it doesn't. Someone had spilled something in the floor, and he was guiding me around it so I wouldn't slip and fall."

"What's wrong with a good old fashioned 'hey, don't step in the mystery spill'?"

He met her eyes now. Her gaze softened and she almost smiled. "Just say what you want to say to me, House."

He wanted to tell her, but being frank about his feelings just wasn't his way. "I did. You wanna go to dinner with me or not?"

"That is _not_ what you've been trying to say for the past . . . who knows how long. I swear, House, sometimes you can get right under a person's . . . skin." And then it hit her, what he had said the night before and what he had meant by it. Her blue eyes grew wide and she sank back into her chair, staring at him not sure if she should smile or cry, or maybe laugh at her slow uptake. She went with her first instinct. A smile, the smile she had always reserved for him when he did something worthy of a smile.


	6. Date Night

A/N: I would like to thank everyone who has read this fic, everyone who has taken the time to review, and everyone who will read this fic. Also, this final chapter, has references to the episode "House Training".

House hauled himself from the chair and began to pace the office. He stopped, back facing her desk when the thought occurred to him that human emotion led to nothing but embarrassment. He had considered giving voice to his observation when he felt her fingers wrap around his arm. "This side of you is nice, House. Its been in hiding for a while." She knew it was a dangerous observation to make, especially since it could possibly send him right back to misanthrope mode and undo any progress made in the last several hours. But she missed this side of him. There had been glimpses of a sweeter, gentler House in college, especially during their time together. And after Stacy and the infarction, his kinder side faded into the shadows.

He grunted in response, not entirely comfortable with this personality. "Careful, Cuddy, I have an image to maintain."

Cuddy stepped around to stand in front of him, her hand never leaving his arm. "Does the offer for dinner still stand?"

"Yeah," he answered a little more gruffly than he meant to. "If you promise not to grin at me the whole time."

"I'll try to maintain my best neutral expression." Her hand dropped and she moved back to her desk, switching off her computer and straightening the files.

He used his cane to hook her purse straps and lift the bag from the floor to the desktop. "This isn't a date unless someone loses their panties."

Cuddy dropped her head and smiled, holding back a laugh. "If you're wearing panties we have a lot to discuss over dinner."

"Good thing I wasn't talking about me," House shot back from the coatrack where he was gathering his bag.

She switched off the lamp and met him at the door, passing under his arm when he opened the door. She waited until they were both standing in the outer office and she had her back turned to him until she smoothly responded to his last comment. "I would have thought you would be all too aware that every Thursday is No Panties Thursday for hospital administration."

It didn't surprise her when House tried to lift her skirt with his cane. She reached behind her and swatted the cane away. "You can't tell a man something like that and not let him look for himself."

Cuddy turned around, changing the subject. "I have never, for one moment, entertained the idea of becoming the next Mrs. James Wilson."

"We should ride my bike," he suggested, all too obviously changing the subject yet again.

"Nice try. I'll drive in my car." House shrugged and followed behind her all the way to the parking lot, mesmerized by the sway in her step.

Their waiter came up to the table, ready to take their starting order. "Its about time," House grumbled into the menu before setting it aside. "For starters, she'll have a bottle of your finest wine and I'll take a scotch. We'll also have the aphrodisiac sampler as an appetizer. We'll need a few minutes for the rest of the order."

The waiter protested slightly to House's order. "Sir, we don't have an . . . _aphrodisiac sampler_." As he said this, his nose crinkled and he spat out the last two words as if they were poisoning his mouth.

"Then bring anything with a few oysters, an avocado, and," House looked across the table to Cuddy and suddenly stopped speaking.

"A _glass _of wine will do," Cuddy amended. "And we won't be ordering an appetizer. Can we please have a few more minutes to look over the menu?"

"Certainly."

She turned her attention back to House. She didn't have to say a word, as her look said it all. "Sorry," he grunted. "But how much do you want to bet he won't be dropping by every ten seconds to ask about our meal."

"What do you want to bet he spits in _your_ food."

Bored with the subject, House decided to make a switch. "So if you had no interest in changing your last name to Wilson, why are the two of you so chummy lately?"

Cuddy glared at him, "I have a better question. Why can't you just admit that you like me, and you're worried I'll find someone else before you muster the courage to do something about it?"

"I like my question better."

The waiter returned, delivering their drinks and they placed their food order before continuing their conversation. When the young man left, Cuddy sipped her wine slowly and leaned back in her chair. "Wilson and I have always been friends, and you know that. And being the only two people on the planet that have a clue about how to deal with you, its important that we band together from time to time." Another slow sip of her wine, then, "now you can answer mine."

House shook his head, "I'm not really one for sharing. But thanks for the opportunity."

"House," she warned. "I didn't agree to have dinner with you so I can get the same crap I get at work."

He fiddled with his napkin and studied the table intently. "I'm no good with this touchy feely crap, Lisa. Never have been, and don't look for it to change anytime soon."

_Fair enough_, she thought. "Can you just agree without compromising your image? I'm not saying I need this to go somewhere right this second or I need you to profess your feelings for me on a regular basis. I just need to know we're here for the same reason."

A shrug and he leaned back in his chair. It was obvious he was having trouble maintaining his usual level of smugness. "I'm here for dinner and good company."

Releasing an exasperated sigh, Cuddy took another sip of her wine. "I think we _are_ here for the same reason, House. And I also think you aren't the only one that has found their way under someone's skin, and that's exactly why I'm the one sitting on this side of the table."

"The wine might be going to your head, Cuddy."

She shot him a look that let him know the challenge was received and accepted, and the game had officially begun. Slipping her foot from her shoe and flexing her toes, happy to be free from the stiletto confines even if for a mischievous moment. "That may be the case, Greg," Cuddy said softly as she extended her foot, running her toes up and down House's calf, smirking wickedly when he flinched at the unexpected contact. As quickly as her toes had reached across and danced along his calf, she retracted her foot and slipped it back in her shoe. "Then again, maybe not."

"I'm beginning to recall what got you the nickname PartyPants," House recalled almost wistfully.

"Like you ever forgot," she snorted, spotting the waiter approaching the table.

Giving his steak an appreciative once over, House snatched his fork and knife. "True, but its always nice to have a vivid reminder. There's a lot to be said for the comfort of an old friend that knows about all the skeletons in your closet and agrees to have dinner with you anyway."

"And for the record, a couple of sips of wine is _not_ enough to even begin to get me drunk, House." Cuddy corrected once the waiter slipped away from the table.

House took a bite of steak and smiled appreciatively as he began cutting another. "So, Lisa, where do you like to take your dates after dinner."

"That depends on the date and the dinner."

Taking another bite of steak, House nodded. "I'll spare no expense if it will get me into Cuddy Park with an all night hand stamp." He waggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner, and suddenly the smug confidence was back in full force.

Cuddy spun a noodle neatly around her fork and brought it to her lips. "I think you've mistaken me for one of your . . . paid dates, House."

House shrugged, "I understand." Cuddy thought he was giving up a bit too easily, until he opened his mouth to continue. "You're probably just afraid of having the time of your life. Which would explain why you've been avoiding me by hiding behind this train of losers."

She put her fork down and laughed out loud, "House, you're forgetting something. I've already had 'the time of my life' with you back in college, and believe me, I have _nothing_ to be afraid of."

"Ouch, that hurts deep," he retorted in mock offense. "Fine, have it your way, but I'm still paying for dinner, and you still have to take me back to the hospital to get my bike."

"That's it?" Cuddy questioned, confused if she should be offended or relieved, disappointed or overjoyed. House nodded. "No clever persuasion? No crude comments at a volume suitable for someone very hard of hearing? No insults to try to bully me into agreeing?"

"Nope," he answered sincerely, turning his attention to the remainder of his dinner.

Cuddy reached out and brushed his forehead with her hand, "you don't feel feverish. Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

A bite of potato washed down with a sip of wine and House responded with a simple, "I'm fine, why?"

"You are never this nice," Cuddy accused almost playfully.

"It's the new me," he responded with a shrug.

With a smile playing at the corner of her lips, Cuddy turned her attention back to her dinner. The rest of the meal continued with their usual patter and when the waiter came back for a dessert order, House and Cuddy both declined in unison. "It's late," Cuddy said almost reluctantly, "and I have early meetings tomorrow."

"Ah, but you can sleep through those meetings like everyone else and we can party the night away," House suggested slyly.

"But House," she replied softly, leaning across the table to create a more intimate moment. "You can't sleep through clinic duty."

House furrowed his brow and frowned in disapproval. "You really know how to kill a mood, Cuddy," he groused. Pushing back his chair and grabbing his cane, pulling himself to his feet. "I'll be right back."

The check arrived and Cuddy slipped the waiter a generous tip as a 'thank you' for putting up with House, assuring the man House would be back momentarily to pay the bill.

The parking lot looked empty compared to how it looked when they had left. Cuddy pulled her car into a spot near House's bike. She shut off her car and tossed her keys into her purse, then quickly retrieved her office keys from their spot in the cup holder. "Thanks for dinner. I had a really nice time."

House fiddled with his cane, "you don't have to sound so surprised about it."

They hadn't been maintaining eye contact and when House's voice had an unmistakable wounded tone to it, Cuddy's blue eyes caught and held his gaze. "I didn't mean it that way, Greg, I'm sorry. I'm not surprised at all. If anything tonight was very refreshing."

"Then we'll do this again sometime soon?" Wounded turned hopeful and there was an almost childlike twinkle in his eye. Before Cuddy could respond further than "I" House interrupted her, "and if you say no and blame it on this hospital, I swear I'll burn it to the ground."

Cuddy shot him one of her many trademark looks, reserved just for him. One that told him she was annoyed, semi-stunned, and oddly flattered all at once by his comment. "Before you so rudely interrupted me," she began sternly then continued on in a softer tone, "I was going to say I would really like that."

His first instinct was to retort with a very House-like barb, but had already worked too hard to get to this point. Instead he nodded, "I'll call you. Or drop by your office." A long pause followed by, "I might even swing by your place if I'm in the area."

"I'm sure." It was weak on her part but she was too busy trying not to kiss him to come up with anything better. Everything he had done in the past twenty-four hours, even in the past forty-eight hours, was making the task more and more difficult, and the way he was looking at her helped nothing at all. "I have some things to sign off on before I go home. Thanks again for dinner, I really did have a nice evening." Tentatively Cuddy reached out and squeezed House's hand, reaching behind her with her free hand to open her car door.

She opened the door and stepped out of the car, prompting House to do the same. And while Cuddy hurried inside the hospital, House made for his bike. Just as he was about to put his cane away and climb onto his motorcycle, House had second thoughts and hobbled inside after Cuddy. She went straight into her office, hanging her purse on the coat rack just inside the door. House came in just before she sat down behind her desk. "House?"

"I forgot something," he said from the doorway, then limped toward her, leaving only her desk to separate them. Cuddy responded with questioning eyes dancing over his serious features, then moved to stand at the side of her desk instead of behind it. House walked over so they were standing toe to toe, then hooked his cane on the edge of the work table. He then reached out and brushed Cuddy's hip with his fingertips before resting his hand there, then cupped her face with his other hand, in an attempt to steady them both.

She could barely remember to breathe and keep her heart from beating out of her chest. But after a few steadying breaths, she smiled coyly while looking into his eyes. Then in a husky whisper said, "I thought you had a reputation to protect, Dr. House."

In an almost anti-House fashion, he pulled her closer to him. "I'm not too worried. The place is closed and you don't know about the hidden cameras in here, so I'm not worried about anything getting out on YouTube."

Cuddy wanted to say something, anything to bring a sliver of normalcy to this situation. Not that there was anything normal about her relationship with House, or about him holding her body close to his, a look of desire in his eyes that she was fairly certain was mirrored in her own. But with his hands on her hip and face, most of her brain cells were busy focusing on her need to have him closer rather than driving him further away with a cutting remark. Instead, she found her hands coming up, fingertips brushing the scruff on his face, on their way to meet at the nape of his neck.

The moment had been a dream unknowingly shared between the two former lovers, and now that it was reality, it still felt too good to be true. His lips captured hers in a surprisingly gentle manner and it was all she could do to not melt into him and cause them both to tumble to the ground. Their lips parted, slowly and reluctantly. A genuine smile crossed the lips that had just been dancing with hers moments ago. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow," House said smoothly, seemingly unaffected by the kiss they had shared.

He had made it to the door before she called out to him. "House . . ." She grabbed a pen and quickly skimmed and signed the first file she came to. "I can call it a night if . . ." That caused him to turn around. Cuddy shrugged a shoulder and tilted her head in a manner that alone could have been rather suggestive, but when coupled with the expression on her face there was no mistaking how she had intended to finish her sentence. He leaned on his cane and raised his eyebrows in what could have been an accepting manner. She stepped forward and retrieved her purse and coat from the rack behind the door. A small part of her hoped they weren't rushing into things and making a mistake. But the larger part of Lisa Cuddy knew this moment was destiny fulfilled, and while she would never tell House, she was happy he had broken into her home and sent her date running. As they walked through the lobby and into the parking lot together, Cuddy fought the urge to reach out for him. Instead she reached out for dreams being realized and dates being interrupted. As she slid into the driver's seat of her car, she smiled. _I never thought I would see the day where I am this happy for House being House, _Cuddy thought, turning the key over and backing out of her parking space. All the way to her driveway, House tailgated her car, smirking every time she glanced back in her rearview mirror.

Once again, House hobbled up the walk, this time following closely behind Cuddy. When she stopped to unlock the front door, he allowed his fingertips to dance along the small of her back. "So . . . are you gonna invite me in for coffee?"

Cuddy shot a glance over her shoulder. "Wanna come in for breakfast, House?"

A rare, genuine smile crossed his lips, "nice," he said in a traditional, drawn out manner.

The End


End file.
